Crushed
by Spirituality
Summary: One-shot. Best friends. Captured in the passionate heat of the moment, all it took was one confession to end it all. They crumbled, leaving nothing but debris in the wake of her most cherised possession. Inu/Kag,


She was nearly asleep.

Her blue eyes seemed to stare consistently at the flickering television, her thick lashes seeming to grow heavier as the time dragged along sluggishly. Her body slumped across his bed lethargically, her bluish black waves of hair pooled messily about his sheets, gleaming wonderfully in the glints of pictures that ran past the screen. He could feel the air of awkwardness dissipate as her drowsiness grew and began to overcome her. She hummed slowly and softly—a sure sign that her consciousness was fading. He scoffed at the rare knowledge that her 'counterpart' most likely (what he had decided to call him) didn't even know. Falling asleep in his room had become a regular occurrence for her, the moment—albeit 12 years ago—when they had become friends at the tender age of five. He was never one to confide in his own feelings, let alone the feelings of others. He was never for the emotional talk, nor was he particularly comfortable with the phrase 'best friend', either. But if he had to choose one person to harbor that label on this large, solitary earth, (not that it would ever have to be an option) it would probably be her.

His golden eyes physically softened around the edges, the speculative spasm in his chiseled jaw ceasing its movement.

He had almost lost that privilege earlier that day. As a matter of fact, he didn't even understand why she still lay next to him so peacefully; yet noticeably heart broken. But as long as he had known her, she had always kept her head held high, obliviously above all her problems. He sighed tiredly.

He supposed their situation was no different. _'Kagome..'_

_Her eyes bore into his with an intensity that caused the aversion of his own golden depths. He knew the small gesture would her hurt—silently give her all the answers she needed. But he couldn't bear to comprehend where her sudden notions had come from. Yes, the feel of her lips against his was addictive, consuming. But..._

_Should that small lapse of sanity really have lead to __**this**__?_

_Playful (albeit a bit rough) wrestling had landed them in a position that seemed to mock the idea of their twisted friendship. An accidental position lead to one thing, that certain thing leading to another. Lips eagerly parted, breaths unabashedly mingled, and tongues sensually caressed. Hands probed and pulled while throats moaned and succumbed to fierce nibbles and scratches. Heat arose expectantly before that dreadful confession tumbled from her thoroughly kissed lips._

_And then all action, every caress, kiss, and incoherent mumble of passionate words, sped to a screeching halt._

_And there they sat. _

_He watched as her hands twisted furiously around one another, an additional sign that he was familiar with. _

_Insecurity. A deep, passionate one that had obviously brought her to blatant, physical actions that insinuated such an emotion._

_Something she wouldn't be caught doing otherwise._

_He started, "Kagome.."_

"_You don't." She finished, her voice suddenly thick with the raw emotion that swam in her eyes, before they disappointedly descended to the ground, "You don't feel the same way."_

_He wanted to disagree. Everything in him screamed to disagree, so maybe then she would feel better—she would become happy again. But he knew that was something he just couldn't do—especially if he would consider his own feelings. He didn't know what repelled him from accepting this, but he knew the feeling proved strong enough for him to remain adamant in his automatic decision. 'Damn.' He cursed inwardly,_ _'I just didn't know it would..do this..'_

_He reached for her subconsciously, similar to what he had done when she fell from her bike at 9 and her father's early death at 11. But unlike those occurrences, where she fell into his embrace, encircling her arms around his torso and burying her sobbing face into his chest, she recoiled from him, pain swelling in her eyes. _

"_Don't." She said, her tone clipped with hurt, "Just don't. I knew this would happen. This was the only nightmare I didn't.." _

_Her voice faded away then, twisting her entire body from him, as if cringing from the situation she had produced with her infamous diligence. _

"_Just act like this never happened. I think I've embarrassed myself for the both of us, thanks." She mumbled angrily. Inuyasha wasn't sure if that anger was directed at her, or himself. _

_He figured he deserved it more._

"_But, Kagome.."_

"_Is that all I get?" She asked, barely looking over her bare shoulder, "A monotonous repeat of my name?"_

_An arid chuckled escaped her throat then, "No, wait. You've never been one for apologies, anyway."_

_And before he could make sense of the incoherent words that tussled fruitlessly in his brain, she stood up, and walked swiftly from the room._

Inuyasha had never been in favor of change. He never had been, and he believed that fact would remain the same for as long as he lived. And as much as he hated to admit it, Kagome making her little 'confession' just begged for uncontrollable change. A wave of remission sailed through him. That's just not something he felt like he could deal with!

He loved the way her mouth moved against his, the way her delightfully curvaceous body folded against his. Her audibly pleasure, when she sucked on the skin of his throat. He loved it, passionate fingers promising to pull him into the main place of ultimate pleasure, promising him unimaginable throes of tastes and memories. But those lustful feelings that he had expressed to her on the porch a few hours prior were nothing new to him. He had harbored them for so long, accepting the gradually growing feelings like he did a newborn sibling.

But the next level?

How could one possibly fathom something so intense at such a young and vibrant age? He bit his lip in contemplation. He just couldn't. He refused.

His golden eyes drifted back to her hesitantly, nervously. A thick strand of hair had strayed onto her porcelain face, marring the perfect image of peacefulness her sleep created. A clawed hand automatically extended to repair said image with a gentle gesture that had been made countless times before. But, unlike anything prior to that moment, there were different circumstances. New limits and boundaries he would have to be conscious of. So, upon this realization, he withdrew his hand, slowly, unsurely, cautiously. He knew his unease would fade over time. It always did.

Giving himself the moment's privilege of indulging in her innocence once more—for past time's sake—he sighed and averted his sullen, tireless eyes back to the television.


End file.
